Flashbacks
by human worm baby
Summary: Incomplete. LOOK! UPDATION!
1. Chapter 1

------------------------------------

No Mommy, don't do it again

Don't do it again

I'll be a good boy

I'll be a good boy, I promise

-- Disturbed

"Down With The Sickness"

------------------------------------

**Flashbacks, Chapter One**

------------------------------------

It's so dark tonight.

Another night alone, the feelings of despair, the whispers of the _voices_ are my only friends. And the screaming.

"GO TO FUCKING _SLEEP_!"

Oh, God, constant screaming.

It's driving me up the fucking wall…

------------------------------------

Todd Casil sighed. Thirteen years old, and his father thought he was about ten years younger.

"GO TO FUCKING _SLEEP_!" his father said, again.

"Jeez," Todd mumbled, rolling over in his bed. He _felt_ three years old, with his stupid little teddy bear – Shmee – by his side. 

It was going to be one of _those_ dreams again.

------------------------------------

GO TO SLEEP! GO TO SLEEP!

It's like a warning light, an alarm going off in my head. I don't want to sleep. I loathe sleep.

Wait.

That was not a doughboy or Nailbunny.

The voice was real… it was not part of me – no part of me wishes for sleep, as far as I am concerned.

And the screaming was not that of my victims. The screaming was a man yelling 'go to sleep.' And the screaming on the other end was from a boy. The screaming I am used to – pain screaming. But the pain wasn't caused by me this time – I heard a whistle through the air, a belt…

Fuck.

I think that's Squee.


	2. Chapter 2

------------------------------------

Maybe I'll wake up for once

  
Not tormented daily defeated by you

  
Just when I thought I'd reached the bottom

  
I'm dying again

-- Evanescence

"Going Under"

------------------------------------

**Flashbacks, Chapter Two**

------------------------------------

His back aflame with tenderness, Todd Casil bit his lip and took in a breath to avoid screaming further. Pain, he had learned, was synonymous with life.

"It does not have to be this way. Your parents are wrong – they hate you."

"Shmee, you're wrong. My parents don't hate me. Parents are not supposed to hate their kids, remember?"

"They tried to put you in an asylum when you were younger."

"They took me out two years later. They wanted me back."

"No they didn't. They took you back because they had to, Todd. Don't you understand? They'd kill you if they were anything like your neighbor. You'd be better off somewhere else."

"Johnny doesn't want to kill me." God DAMMIT, this is driving me fuckin' crazy, Todd thought, and another thought occurred to him: Is this how Johnny went crazy? Talking teddy bears and voices in his head? Hearing "voices" is a sure sign of insanity, isn't it?

------------------------------------

Tap-tap-tap-tap-tap

"Hmm?" Squee said aloud. He had learned at the tender age of six to keep his window unlocked – living next to a homicidal neighbor was scary, having me entering the house was worse, but it was unnecessary to have me breaking into the house.

The window slid open and I slipped into the room without a sound. I think Squee realized I wasn't going to kill him – in fact, I wasn't even carrying a weapon, for once.

"Squee," I breathed.

"'Nny?" he managed, a shortening of my name that I allowed him to use.

"Hey Squeegee, I heard all that shit going on before…"

The boy winced at the nickname. I guess he felt stupid and weak and young again when he was called Squeegee.

"I understand," I said quickly. "Todd. Look, I heard that all goin' on… are you alright?"

"Y-yes," Todd mumbled, cowering in the corner of his room. "I'm fine…of course."

"Then get back to bed, kiddo," I said with a wide grin. "I was hearing things again…"

As he reached to pick up the boy and carry him to his bed (I knew it would make him feel stupid and weak and young again but I had to test a theory) … he gasped as my hands gripped his back and I proved my theory. "You're not okay."

"I know," he whispered. "Please don't hurt my parents, 'Nny, they didn't mean it."

I was sure they did mean it. "I came after it was over. I didn't want to scare you. Can I take you back to my place for a little? I think I have some stuff to patch you up…"

He gave a weird little stare, which would have made me smile in a different circumstance. "You only hurt people, 'Nny."

"I haven't hurt you," I replied, climbing out his window and beckoning for him to follow.

  
I heard him whisper "Yet" before he was climbing out himself.


	3. Chapter 3

------------------------------------

Bandages on my legs and my arms from you

Bandages, bandages, bandages

  
Up and down on my legs, on my arms, from you

Bandages, bandages, bandages

--Hot Hot Heat, "Bandages"

------------------------------------

****

**Flashbacks, Chapter Three******

****

------------------------------------

Dear Die-ary,

Squee stood before me, naked and afraid, and oh so vulnerable.

You'd think the wall would beg me kill him, already bleeding there, unable to fight back. I'd like to say it was my own integrity.

I've come to the conclusion that it was the wall's integrity, or maybe Nailbunny.

I'll tell you now, though, without hesitation, right then and there my heart broke for the poor little guy. He could barely stand – the climb and walk to my place was probably all he could take. I allowed him to lie flat on his stomach, as I examined his back.

The fucking father must've hit him pretty bad for a while now. Not that anyone else would care, and again I'm still not sure why the fuck I did, either. I love Squee, though, I really do. So I bit back tears while I ran my fingers over the bruises, and began to patch up his back as best I could. I had killed people in worse ways before, but honestly, this made me truly sick.

I think a couple of Squee's ribs were broken, because he was breathing with a bit of difficulty, and as I wrapped his back up in cloth and duct-taped it together (I would like to stop here and thank God for duct tape), I noticed a few scars along his arms.

"Your father didn't do that," I stated simply, laying him on a bed. (No, I don't sleep, and it wasn't a bed I used for any sort of torture device. Truth be told, I can't think where the hell the bed came from, but God, it was convenient.)

Squee began crying noiselessly, tears streaming down his face, and I covered him in blankets, whispering meaningless jumbles to try and calm him down. Damn, I should be a father.

Actually, writing that down makes me think of Devi, so I will stop and move on to other things.

So anyway, after wrapping the last of my bandages around Todd's arms, I made a mental note of that and tossed my knives aside, at least for this night.

And on the floor of that room, I got my first night of sleep in a long fucking time.


End file.
